


Three Days

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [4]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Bondage, CK's Thinking of You quoted, Eliot using Lyn's swords, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Immortal Original Character, Kink, QUITE A BIT OF SEX, Song lyrics quoted, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: After they leave Los Angeles, Lyn and Eliot embark on a road trip, adventures ensue.





	Three Days

**Author's Note:**

> I distinctly remember writing the opening car ride in July 2015. Didn't realize it had been that long!! It's much longer than I ever thought it would be... and the story only covers 3 days!! ;) 
> 
> Parts have been beta read, other parts have not. I tried but I wear people out after a couple years. ::shrug::
> 
> A bunch of songs are included in this story, but they're part of the getting to know each other.

_Wake up, what you been dreaming about_  
_I ain't got a lot to say, but I could talk to you for hours_  
_The way you talk, the way that you breathe_  
_The way that your spirit moves into me_  
_Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up_  
_I got three days to wash the road out of my soul_  
_I got three days to love you out of control_  
_And I wish I had a lifetime to hold onto you this way_  
_Love can do some healing in just three days_  
~~ _Three Days_ , Pat Green

 

Before we went to sleep, I fired off an email to my personal secretary, Carrie, at the office in Chicago. She would get into the office at eight in the morning, and everything would be lined up for us when we were ready to check out of the hotel.

Eliot hit the gym with me the next morning. Our workout was less intense but there was still a friendly rivalry between us; he could match my pace and it felt good to run alongside him. When I chose to swim laps, Eliot opted out, and upon my return to the room, he had showered, dressed, and ordered breakfast.

“Cream cheese blintzes?” I asked as he lifted the cover off the plate.

“With blueberries and whipped cream,” he said.

I dug in. They were divine, totally sinful.

“‘m sure we’ll find a way to work off the calories,” Eliot said with a wink, as if reading my mind.

We ate in companionable silence.

After breakfast, I showered and dressed, opting for jeans and a casual blouse. I packed most of the casual clothes I had, including workout gear, and left behind all the dressy clothes except for a simple black skirt and a pair of high heels. I knew Ray would take care of what I’d left behind, sending it to my place in Chicago. Depending on where we ended up, I was certain I could buy whatever other clothes I needed.

My sword case was ready. It contained a 14” Venetian stiletto dagger, a 29” Roman Gladius short sword, a 34” training bokken and 41” Japanese Katana given to me by my teacher, Methos. The case itself was fairly large, 4’ long, black metallic. I was sure Eliot would have questions, but I wasn’t going anywhere without my swords. For the first time, I wondered if I’d lost my mind when I proposed this trip.

It was close to eleven when my phone chimed, alerting me to a text from Carrie.

Eliot looked up from the newspaper when I stepped into the living area.

“The car will be here in half an hour,” I told him.

***

Checking out at the front desk, I signed the bill and handed Marcy a stack of envelopes; tips for the staff. I had left the ones for Ray and the housekeeping staff upstairs.

When we stepped outside, a brand new 2011 Ford Mustang convertible in Kona blue metallic was waiting for us.

“Ms. O’Neil?” the eager salesman asked.

“Yes.”

He thrust a clipboard in front of me, his hand shaking. “If you’ll just sign here.”

I scrawled my signature on the form and he handed me the keys.

“Thank you, uh...” I said, looking for a name tag.

“Fletcher Arnold,” he said, handing me a business card. “If you need anything else...”

“We’ll be fine,” I assured him, tucking the card inside my bag.

I turned back to Eliot, an unreadable expression on his face, and tossed him the keys.

“You drive.”

I pretended not to notice his discomfiture and slid into the passenger seat while he popped the trunk; the bellman loaded Eliot’s duffle, my suitcase and sword case.

“You bought this?” Eliot asked as he slid behind the wheel.

I shrugged. “It was easier to buy than rent.”

“Uh huh,” he said, adjusting the mirrors and fastening his seatbelt.

Eliot started the car and it roared to life; he revved the engine a couple of times, and with a grin, he pealed out of the hotel’s porte-cochère.

I yelped and threw my head back, laughing wildly. Hearing Eliot’s laughter join, I looked at him. He looked excited and carefree, and in that moment, I had no reservations about buying the car or taking this trip with him.

***

We drove north and east. Expressway, highway, surface streets, it didn’t matter, just as long as it was north or east. We drove mostly in silence, enjoying the wind in our hair, but I could feel his mind in overdrive. He had questions but I wasn’t ready to answer them.

“Want some music?” I asked after we’d slowed down a bit.

He glanced over at me. “Not sure we can agree.”

“You might be surprised,” I countered.

He didn’t say anything but I could tell he was doubtful.

“Name a singer or group, and then your favorite song?” I suggested.

He chuckled but nodded. “You start.”

“Okay,” I said. “Alphabetically?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Aerosmith.”

He looked thoughtful for a second, then said, “Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.”

“Good one. I like _Love in an elevator, livin' it up when I'm goin' down_ ,” I sang the lyric.

Grinning, Eliot waggled his eyebrows and said, “Now we just need to find an elevator.”

I bumped his arm playfully. “Your turn.”

“Beatles.”

“ _There are places I remember, all my life, tho some have changed_.”

“Got a nice voice,” he complimented.

“Well, it won’t sell a million records.” I shrugged. “Go.”

“ _It’s been a hard day’s night, and I been working like dog_ ,” he sang.

I nodded. “You’re the one with the good voice.”

He brushed off my compliment. “Go.”

“Conway Twitty.”

“ _Hello darlin’_ ,” Eliot said, his voice deep and gravelly.

I breathed out harshly and clenched my thighs together. If he talked to me in that voice for very long, I couldn’t be held responsible for the things I would do to him.

I must have had an odd expression on my face, because he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly.

“Your turn then.”

“Oh, um...” I couldn’t think. “Slow Hand.”

Nodding in agreement, he said, “Def Leppard.”

I smiled widely. “ _Pour some sugar on me_...”

“ _In the name of love, pour your sugar on me_ ,” he continued.

We looked at each other and laughed. His hand dropped on my thigh and he squeezed gently.

“Good song,” I said.

“Good band,” he agreed.

I cleared my throat. “Elton John.”

“ _And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time til touchdown brings me round again to find, I’m not the man they think I am at all, oh no, no, no. I’m a rocket man. Rocket man, burnin’ out his fuse up here alone_.”

_Damn! He could really sing._

“What?” Eliot asked, his eyes heavy on me.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

I could tell he didn’t quite believe me, but I was worried if I said any more, he’d shut down.

“Elton John to me,” I said. “Candle in the Wind.”

Looking at me, he had an adorable furrow between his eyebrows, but continued. “Foreigner.”

“ _I’m hot blooded, check it and see_ ,” I winked.

“Juke Box Hero,” he said.

“Genesis.”

“ _She seems to have an invisible touch yeah, she reaches in, and grabs right hold of your heart_.”

“Isn’t that Phil Collins?”

“Nope,” he said, tapping the side of his nose.

“Mmm... I Can’t Dance.”

Eliot nodded and said, “Hank Williams, Junior.”

“ _All my rowdy friends are comin’ over tonight._ ”

“Yeah,” he said. “ _I’ll get whiskey bent and hell bound_.”

“Good choice.” I said. “INXS.”

“ _Suicide Blonde was the color of her hair_.”

He laughed when I shook my hair.

“ _I need you tonight, cause I’m not sleepin’_.”

“Uh huh, uh... Janis Joplin.”

“ _Oh Lord_...” I started. Then Eliot joined in. “ _Won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz, my friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends_.”

As we laughed, I put my hand on his. He turned his hand palm up and we linked fingers.

“Katy Perry.”

Eliot grimaced. “I Kissed a Girl.” He didn’t sing it.

“ _And I liked it_.” I laughed as he looked at me sideways.

“Lit.”

“ _You make me come_...”

“ _You make me complete_...” he added.

“ _You make me completely miserable_ ,” we sang together.

He squeezed my hand.

“Melissa Etheridge,” I offered.

“ _Come to my window, crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon_.”

“Good one,” I said, “but I like _come on baby, let’s get out of this town, I’ve got a full tank of gas and the top rolled down, there’s a chill in my bones, I don’t wanna be left alone, so baby you can sleep while I drive_.”

Eliot nodded and tapped his hand on the steering wheel.

“Nine Inch Nails.”

“Uh...” I shrugged my shoulders. “I know the name...”

“ _I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel_ ,” he sang softly.

“Sounds sad,” I said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How about something upbeat?” I said with a smile. “Olivia Newton-John.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Physical.”

“ _Let’s get physical, physical_.”

I laughed while he shook his head at me.

“Pat Green,” he said.

I shook my head. “No idea.”

“ _Everybody gotta get away sometime, forget about yourself for awhile, seems to me that all you need is a rag top car and a ride with me, I’m okay, it’s all right, just might get a little high tonight, I’m okay, I’m all right, carry on._.”

“I like that,” I told him. “How about Queen?”

“ _Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin’ world go ‘round_.”

I shook my head at him and sang, “ _Another one bites the dust_.”

“Yeah, classic,” he said. “Radiohead.”

“ _I’m a creep_...”

“ _I’m a weirdo_...”

“ _What the hell am I doing here, I don’t belong here_ ,” we sang together.

He squeezed my hand.

“Semisonic.”

“ _Closing time, one last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer_...”

Smiling, I nodded. “ _Closing time, every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end_.”

I thought about us then. Was this our beginning? And what had ended for us to begin?

“Scary,” he said.

“What?” As if he’d read my thoughts.

“Similar taste.”

I shrugged, knowing my taste in music was very eclectic.

“Wanna stop?”

I thought he’d picked up on the shift in my mood, but when I looked up, he gestured to a road sign indicating a gas/convenience store ahead.

“Sure.”

“Where were we?”

“Uh, ‘T’.”

“Tracy Chapman.”

“ _You got a fast car_...” I started.

“ _I want a ticket to anywhere_...”

“ _Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere, anyplace is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose, maybe we'll make something, me, myself I got nothing to prove_ ,” we finished together.

He kept humming and I listened, feeling so peaceful just riding around with him.

“You,” he said after a while.

“Me?”

“The letter ‘U’.”

“Oh.” I laughed. I’d almost forgotten. “U2.”

I felt like he was going to make a witty response but instead he sang, “ _In the name of love, what more in the name of love_.”

“ _But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for_ ,” I sang softly.

He smiled tenderly at me. “V... uh, Village People.”

“ _It’s fun to stay at the..._ ” I waited for him to join me.

“ _Y-M-C-A_!”

We laughed together.

“Who,” I said.

The air changed in the car, and Eliot’s voice was deeper, more gravelly. Somber, somehow.

“ _No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes, no one knows what it’s like to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies_.”

I stared at him, moved and shaken at the same time. So much more was being shared here than just his favorite Who song.

“I like Limp Bizkit’s version too,” I said softly, squeezing his hand.

He looked at me then, his eyes unguarded and I thought I saw something familiar—someone hurting, someone searching, I thought I saw myself.

Looking away, Eliot cleared his throat, “Time to stop.”

The convenience store had just come into sight.

***

Fifteen minutes later, we were back in the car and he was sliding on a pair of sunglasses he’d just bought.

“What’re those?” I asked, gesturing to his plastic bag.

Holding up the bag, he said, “Pork rinds.”

“Chips made of pork?” I asked.

“Ever have ‘em?”

I laughed warily. “No.”

“Here,” he said, pulling open the bag. “These’re hot and spicy, so ya might wanna crack open that soda.”

I gingerly pulled out a ‘pork rind’ and took a small bite; it was extremely crunchy and airy at the same time. I tasted the heat right off but it wasn’t too strong. They were different.

“Not bad,” I said, taking the bag from him.

“Hey!” he said. “Get yer own.”

“Just did.” I laughed at his pout and handed the bag back to him.

“Nah,” he said, starting the car, “I’ll share.”

Back out on the highway, between bites, I said, “You start this time.”

“A?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm... All American Rejects.”

The way he said it made me certain he thought I wouldn’t know them.

“ _I’ll keep you my_...”

He joined me. “ _Dirty little secret_.”

We laughed and then I said, “Bonnie Raitt.”

“ _Let’s give ‘em something to talk about_.”

“Good song,” I said. “ _Are you ready for the thing called love_.”

“How about... Carly Simon.”

“ _You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you_.”

He laughed, then sang, “ _Nobody does it better, makes me feel sad for the rest_.”

I smiled and said, “Dar Williams.”

He cocked his head at me and scratched his chin. “Don’t know ‘er.”

We had just pulled up to a ‘STOP’ sign, so when I sang, it was quiet around us.

“ _And you know the light is fading all too soon, and you’re just two umbrellas one late afternoon, you don’t know the next thing you will say, this is your favorite kind of day, it has no walls, the beauty of the rain is how it falls, how it falls, how it falls_.”

I could feel the weight of his eyes on me even though they were covered with his sunglasses.

“That was real pretty,” he said softly.

“You should check her out.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat. “Eurythmics.”

“ _Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I do disagree_.”

“Same,” he said, “but I also like the Marilyn Manson version.”

“Haven’t heard it.”

“Should.”

“I will. Okay, ‘F’, uh... Frank Sinatra.”

He laughed and sang, “ _Oh, the shark has pretty teeth dear, and he shows 'em, pearly white_.”

I laughed as he grinned at me, showing his pearly whites.

“Didn’t Bobby Darin sing that first?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, but I like Sinatra’s version.”

“Okay. Um, _Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars_.”

“That’s a classic. Can’t go wrong with Sinatra,” he said, tapping the steering wheel. “How ‘bout George Strait.”

“Famous Last Words of a Fool.”

“ _All my ex’s live in Texas, and Texas is the place I’d dearly love to be_.”

I laughed and shook my head at him.

“Hinder.”

“ _It’s really good to hear your voice_ ”

“ _Saying my name_ ,” I joined in.

“ _It sounds so sweet coming from the lips of an angel_ ,” we finished together.

“Insane Clown Posse,” he said, sliding down his sunglasses and looking over the tops at me.

“Really?”

He chuckled throatily. “Yup.”

I shook my head. “No idea. You?”

He was silent for a long minute, then shrugged. “I actually don’t know any.”

I smacked his thigh playfully and he grabbed my hand, holding it.

“Joe Cocker.”

“Have a Little Faith in Me.”

“ _I get by with a little help from my friends_.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Like that one. Uh, Kevin Fowler.”

“Nope,” I shook my head.

“ _I ain't drinkin' anymore but I ain't drinkin' any less_.”

“You’re making that up,” I teased.

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “He’s a good ole Texas boy. Ya outta check him out.”

“I will,” I told him, trying to come up with someone to stump him. “Lena Horne.”

“Uh... heard of her, but...”

“ _Don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky, stormy weather_.”

He nodded appreciatively. “Merle Haggard.”

I pretended to not know him, then sang, “ _Silver wings, shining in the sunlight_.”

He countered with, “ _I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole, no one could steer me right, but Mama tried, Mama tried_.”

Hoping he wouldn’t know her, I said, “Nina Simone.”

“ _Here comes the sun, little darlin’, here comes the sun_.”

“That’s a Beatles song,” I chided.

“But she sang it,” he countered.

“Okay,” I conceded. “ _Birds flyin’ high, you know how I feel, sun in the sky, you know how I feel, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me, and I’m feelin’ good_.”

“Yeah, I like that,” he said. “O... uh... Ozzy!”

“ _I’m goin’ off the rails..._ ” I started.

“ _On the crazy train_ ,” he finished.

“Ozzy’s a classic,” I said with a laugh. “How ‘bout Poison.”

“ _Every rose has its thorn..._ ”

“ _Just like every night has its dawn_.”

“Q... Q...” he shrugged. “Quiet Riot.”

“ _Cum on feel the noize…_

“ _Girls rock your boys_.”

We laughed at each other; it felt good, familiar.

“What about Ray Charles,” I tossed out.

“ _Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through_.”

I smiled and thought about picking up the refrain, but instead, I sang. “ _Hit the road Jack and don’t ya come back no more, no more, no more, no more_.”

Eliot laughed throatily. I liked the sound of it and squeezed his hand.

“Gettin’ hungry,” he said, but I wasn’t sure if it was a question, statement or a proposition.

I growled softly, his thoughts indicating both food and sex. Of course, that could be arranged.

“Food?” I asked.

“For now,” he said, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it.

“Let’s keep playing,” I said.

“Thought we were.” He released my hand and set his on my thigh, squeezing gently.

“It’s your turn,” I reminded him. “S.”

He shrugged, moving his fingers on my thigh. “Staind.”

I shook my head distractedly. “Don’t know ‘em.”

“ _And it's been awhile since I could hold my head up high, and it's been awhile since I first saw you, and it's been awhile since I could stand on my own two feet again_.”

“I like that.”

“Yeah,” he said wistfully.

“Three Days Grace.”

“ _Pain without love..._ ” he started.

“ _Pain, I can’t get enough, pain, I like it rough_ ,” I sang.

“ _Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing else_ ,” he finished softly.

He held the wheel steady with his knees, let go of the wheel, pulled his sunglasses off and met my eyes. So much was said in those 30 seconds.

I took his hand in mine and squeezed hard. I think that’s when we really began to understand each other.

***

Several silent miles down the road, we saw a sign for a restaurant. With just one look at each other, Eliot pulled off the highway into the gravel parking lot.

The building had a rustic look and the smell of a barbecue pit was immediately apparent. _Hard Eight Bar-be-que_ the sign read. Eliot gave me a shrug and got out of the car. I took a moment to pull my hair up and secure it with a clip while he walked around the car and opened my door. 

It was typical lunch hours and there were quite a few patrons sitting at picnic style tables scattered throughout the room. 

A teenaged girl called out to us, “Sit wherever you like.”

Eliot gestured to a table near one of the few windows and we sat on the bench seats across from each other. 

The same girl stepped up to the table, Cami, her nametag read. “What can I get ya to drink?” she asked as she handed us menus.

“Iced tea,” I said.

“Sweet or unsweet?”

“Sweet for me,” Eliot said, studying the menu.

“Same.”

As she walked away, I glanced at the menu. When she came back with the tall plastic glasses, we were ready to order. I chose the turkey with potato salad, and Eliot picked brisket and ribs with fries. 

I took a sip of the sweet tea. “Whoa!”

“Sweet?” Eliot asked.

“Very.” I smiled. I’d spent years in the south drinking sweet tea, but it had been quite a while.

He took a big drink and grinned playfully. 

I noticed an advertisement for a local fair on the side of the napkin holder and was about to point it out to him when Cami returned with a basket of hot rolls.

“Y’all in town for the fair?” she asked.

“Is it a big deal?” I asked, sliding the napkin holder around so Eliot could see it.

“It’s the **county** fair,” she said, as if that was all the explanation I needed. She sauntered off to help another customer.

“Up for an adventure?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Soon Cami brought the food, the plates heaping with food. She also set down a tray with pickles, onions and jalapenos.

“Anything else I can get ya?”

“Yeah,” I said, indicating the advertisement, “are there any hotels in town?”

“A couple,” she said, but looked uncertain, “but I think they’re all full.”

“Oh.” Maybe this wouldn’t be an adventure for us. “B&B’s?”

“Oh!” she said suddenly. “Yeah, Miss Ida’s. It’s not in town but the cottages look super cute.”

“Do you have her number by any chance?” I asked hopefully.

“I can look it up for ya.”

Cami walked away, and we dug into our lunch. It was amazing. The turkey was moist and flavorful. His brisket was juicy with a wonderful smoky flavor. The ribs were meaty and tender. It was better than some of the best restaurants in the south. 

Cami returned at one point to refill our tea glasses and set a slip of paper on the edge of the table. When Eliot went to the rest room to wash his hands, I dialed the number for the B&B.

“Miss Ida’s Cottages,” an older woman said when she answered.

“Hi, I was wondering if you have any vacancies?”

“For tonight?”

“For the weekend,” I clarified.

“Coming in for the fair?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I’ve got 3 empty cottages, you can take your pick.”

“Wonderful!”

“Know how to get here?” she asked.

“No, I’ll need the address.” She gave it to me.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Lyn O’Neil. We’ll be there in about half an hour.” I disconnected the call.

“Be where?” Eliot asked, taking his seat.

“I got us a place to stay.”

Eliot paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and we headed out.

***

“This it?” he asked as we pulled into a driveway.

The Victorian style house was set back from the road, it was white with blue trim. The white picket fence looked sharp and crisp in the bright afternoon sunshine. The yard was full of flowers and at least one bird feeder. I saw a sign leaning against the fence. _Miss Ida’s Bed and Breakfast_

“Looks right,” I told him. 

Before Eliot could turn off the car, a sprite of a woman came out onto the front porch, easing the screen door closed behind her.

“Mrs. O’Neil?”

Quickly getting out of the car, I hurried up the stairs to shake her hand.

“Please call me Lyn.”

She was barely 5’ tall but her grip was strong and sure. I liked her immediately.

“This must be your husband?” she asked as Eliot joined us.

I winked at him before turning back to her. “Yes. Eliot.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Good to meet you too, ma’am,” he said, and I felt that he liked her also.

“Well, come on in. I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out.”

We followed her inside to the front parlor; it was set it up as an office, a large old-fashioned roll top desk taking up much of one wall. There was a small settee against another wall and three straight back chairs near the desk. We followed her lead and sat in the straight back chairs.

She handed me a clipboard with short form, the usual—name, address, phone number. I filled it in while she made small talk, mostly about the fair.

“There’s a dance tonight to kick off the event. The carnival starts tomorrow at 11. And there’s the judging at 10.”

“Judging?” Eliot asked.

“Bread, pickles, pie, and jam.”

“Do you participate in any of that?” I asked as I handed back the clip board.

“Just the jam contest.” She said with a laugh. “The dance is for you youngsters.”

I laughed and handed her my credit card. 

“Between you and me, I’m hoping to win another blue ribbon. Five years running.” She crossed her fingers and winked.

She ran the credit card and handed it back.

“Now, you’ve got your choice of cabins. They’re all pretty much the same. The first one is closest to road and has a porch swing and a pretty view of the meadow. The second has a nice view of the hills and gets the evening light, and it has a gazebo. The third is way in the back, gets the morning light and sits right beside the creek. It has a hammock. What do you think?”

I could feel Eliot’s answer bubbling up inside me.

“How about the one by the creek, honey?” I asked him sweetly.

“Sure, baby,” he grinned back. “Whatever you want.”

Miss Ida smiled at us. “Y’all newlyweds?”

“How can you tell?” I asked her. 

“All those pet names.” She laughed. “Pretty soon you’ll forget your own damn name.”

She stood suddenly and we followed suit. 

“Breakfast is included, served up here at 8, off the table by 9, no exceptions. If you need anything else, let me know. Follow the road, you’ll pass the first 2 cabins.” She held out a key which I took.

“Thank you,” we both said as we left.

Back in the car, Eliot drove slowly.

“So, I’m your husband now?”

“Didn’t think she’d let us have it if she thought we weren’t married,” I explained. 

“Makes sense.”

***

The cabin resembled the main house, Victorian style with blue trim and a white picket fence. Eliot popped the trunk and I grabbed my sword case while he carried our bags. 

The cabin was light and airy, decorated in blues and white. In the living area, there was a full-sized couch and a comfortable looking easy chair across from a wood burning fireplace, plus a decent sized television. A small table with two chairs sat beside a counter; a small refrigerator, microwave and a coffee maker on the counter. The room was separated by pocket doors, and a large king-sized bed stood on the other side of the room. A quick peek in the bathroom revealed a double vanity and large shower. I loved it.

Turning, I watched Eliot set our bags on the bed and I leaned the sword case in the corner. I noticed he set his bag on the side furthest away from the bathroom, which happened to be a hair closer to the front door. I smiled as I watched him leave the room.

I heard him open another door, which I guessed was to the back porch.

“Wow!”

I quickly followed him out.

The porch was wide and shaded, a wicker love seat sat across from two wicker chairs. A hammock, strung across a metal frame, swung gently in the breeze. 

“She said creek, but this is more of a stream.”

I looked to where he was pointing. Yeah, it was definitely more than a creek. 

Stepping off the porch, we walked closer. The stream was at least 20 feet wide, moving with a lazy current, several trees and rocks lined the sides. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” I asked him impulsively.

He glanced over at me, smiling. “I don’t have any trunks.”

“I don’t see anybody else around,” I said, making a point of looking around. “And I’ve already seen everything.”

“Well, hell,” he said, pulling his tee-shirt off. “Let’s get wet!”

***

The water was crisp and refreshing in the hot sunshine. The stream was deep enough to swim, but I knew there wasn’t going to be much swimming when he splashed me right after we got in. We laughed and splashed until the closeness and nakedness led to its inevitable conclusion.

Drying off in the hammock, I curled against his side, content.

“Damn,” he said softly.

“Hmm?”

“When you started hummin’,” he said raggedly. “Fuck, I couldn’t help it.”

I laughed, remembering how he’d gone off unexpectedly, shooting down my throat while we were engaged in some serious sixty-nine action.

“It’s your fault,” I teased. “What you were doing with your tongue and fingers...” I shivered and clenched my thighs together, remembering. 

I knew he felt my reaction, and his hand ghosted along my bare hip.

“You starting something again?” I asked, watching his cock start to harden.

“Maybe...” he said, pulling me on top of him and setting the hammock to swaying.

***

Two hours later we were headed into the nearest town, the county seat, Miss Ida informed us, when we’d stopped to talk to her. Besides working up an appetite for dinner, I wanted to buy some clothes for the weekend. Miss Ida advised us to shop at Evelyn’s, that it, like most of the stores in town, were on the square and that we couldn’t miss it. 

A bell rang as we entered the shop and a young woman looked up from behind the counter. She smiled as she greeted us.

“Hi, I’m Tracy. Can I help you find something?”

“I’m looking for something to wear to the dance tonight, Tracy,” I told her. I was aware of Eliot heading towards racks of men’s clothes.

“The fair dance?”

“Yes,” I answered as she led me towards a rack of blouses. “What do most people wear?”

“Usually boots and jeans, but a lot of the girls wear boots and shorts or mini-skirts,” Tracy told me, gesturing to her denim skirt and boots.

I smiled to myself, looking at her, I would definitely have lumped her into the ‘girls’ category. 

“Show me the boots,” I told her.

As we headed towards the back of the store, I noticed Eliot follow. We both tried on a couple pairs; I finally settled on a pair of Roper brand, black boots with a scroll underlay of turquoise on the sides. Eliot chose a pair Lucchese, black boots with detailing on the sides. 

While I was trying on boots, Tracy had selected some items for me to try on—denim skirts and shorts, blouses, halter tops, and a couple of sundresses. After some back and forth, I made my choices and met Eliot at the cash register. I saw he’d added a pair of faded Levi’s, a burgundy dress shirt with pearl snaps and a package of black sleeveless undershirts.

“Oh, one more thing,” I said, heading back to the intimate’s section. There wasn’t a very large selection but I found white cotton bikini underwear to wear under the white eyelet dress I’d chosen. 

Setting the package on the counter, I saw that Eliot already had his credit card out, so I let him pay for our purchases.

While he stashed the bags in the trunk, I looked around the town square, spotting two restaurants.

“Dinner?” I asked when he came back. 

He rubbed his stomach thoughtfully. “Yeah, I kinda worked up an appetite today.”

“Day’s not over,” I teased as he took my hand and we walked towards the nearest restaurant.

***

Eliot was sitting on the back porch waiting for me when I stepped out, and he whistled appreciatively.

I turned in a circle, a bit unsure of the skirt and boot combination, but his reaction reassured me. The denim miniskirt had a bit of a ruffle on the bottom that made it fan out when I spun around. In deference to that, I’d worn dark yoga shorts underneath. I’d paired the skirt with a sleeveless black crop top with a splash of turquoise sequins around the neckline and added my silver chandelier earrings.

Eliot stood and said. “Ya look good enough to eat.”

“Later, tiger!” I teased. 

He laughed as he led us out, and I admired the way he looked in his faded jeans and the pearl snap burgundy shirt.

When he opened the front door for me, I paused to study him. The setting sun was shining perfectly on the lower half of his face, bathing it in warm light; his eyes seemed bluer. The sun lit up his hair too, bringing out the reds. My fingers itched to touch it, touch him, but rational thought pervaded.

As if reading my mind, Eliot studied me. I let his feelings wash over me, warm me—happiness, desire, tenderness. It was intoxicating.

“Let’s go,” he finally said, and I knew he felt the way I did. 

One touch and we would never leave the cottage.

***

It was easy to find the fairgrounds and the building the dance was being held in, we simply followed the line of cars. The event was bigger than I’d expected, but then I remembered Cami’s words from this afternoon: it’s the **county** fair.

I was out of the car before Eliot could come around to open my door and met him in front. He smiled and took my hand. It felt like a typical Friday night date and I couldn’t help but smile back.

I tried to prepare myself for the thoughts and feelings that were bound to bombard me with a crowd this large. I hoped focusing on Eliot would help.

The music was booming as we stepped into the building. In the center was a large oval shaped dance floor and I could see at least one bar on each side. I didn’t recognize the country song, but I knew the beat.

“You know how to two-step, don’t ya?” I asked.

“Darlin’, I was born two-steppin’.” He winked and pulled me onto the dancefloor. 

I knew from dancing with him in the hotel atrium that he was light on his feet, but as he spun me around the dancefloor, I realized how well he could move. We danced once, twice, I lost count. One song flowed into the next and the only difference was the rhythm and steps. 

Eventually he pulled me from the dancefloor towards the bar.

“Beer?” he asked.

I nodded and heard him order two Dos Equis, dressed. Having never heard the expression, I watched as the bartender popped the cap on a beer bottle, rub a lime around the top of the neck, slide the lime inside the opening, then sprinkle beer salt around the neck. He repeated the process on the second bottle and then set them on the counter.

Eliot dropped some cash on the bar and handed me a bottle. I watched as he squeezed the lime into the bottle, then pushed it in; I followed suit. We clinked bottles and drank. It was cool and refreshing after the dancing, but it would never replace Guinness as my preferred beer.

As I sipped the beer, I noticed people showing interest in us. Mostly, I thought, because we were strangers, but, also because we were both attractive people. Looking at Eliot, watching him tip back his beer bottle, I couldn’t help but appreciate his masculine beauty.

Feeling my eyes on him, he gave me a questioning look, but I just smiled.

The music changed, and Eliot asked, “Waltz with me?”

After ditching our bottles, he led me back onto the dancefloor. He moved with grace and style, and I wondered where he’d learned to dance so well. We were basically strangers and everything I learned about him made me curious to know more.

As the waltz ended and another song began, Eliot led me back to the bar, ordering two more beers before gesturing towards the restrooms.

“Don’t get lost,” I said with a wink before he walked away.

“As if,” he replied, shaking his head.

I sipped my beer and studied the crowd. It was an interesting mix of ages, twenty-somethings to sixty-somethings, most clustered together in small groups.

Caught nearly off guard when strong arms encircled my waist, I only had a moment to refrain from countering and striking, when I realized it was Eliot. He took the beer bottle from my hand and took a long pull. 

I turned and was about to make a comment when a loud chorus of cheers went up. The DJ announced a line dance for the ladies next, a song called ‘Country Girl’. I shrugged as I looked at Eliot. 

“Go on,” he said with a thrust of his chin.

I watched as a group of women stepped onto the dancefloor and listened to the first strains of the song. _Why not?!_ I thought as I returned to the dancefloor.

Stepping into the middle of the crowd, I watched the foot work of the women in front of me and quickly picked up the steps. As the song continued, the crowd watching grew and I heard several catcalls. Looking around, I spotted Eliot watching with an amused smile on his face. I shook it (as the song directed) in his direction and threw my head back laughing.

When the song finally ended, a large cheer went up and nearly everyone was applauding. Caught up in the excitement of the moment, I rushed over to Eliot and practically jumped into his arms. He easily caught me and held me to him. Grinning, his face was flushed, and I could tell he was also caught up in the moment.

Startled, I felt something cold press against my bare back and I thrust myself more firmly against Eliot. He laughed as he moved the cold beer bottle away from strip of bare skin between my skirt and shirt. I smacked his arm playfully and took the bottle, draining the remaining liquid.

Eliot steered us back towards the bar.

“Tequila,” he told the bartender.

Unwilling to relinquish my hold on him, I leaned into him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. We watched the bartender pour the tequila, set a wedge of lime on the side of the shot glass and push the salt shaker our way. 

“Ready?” he asked.

Taking my left hand, he turned it palm up and licked the area at the base of my thumb-the Mount of Venus, and sprinkled salt on it. He repeated the move on himself and set the salt shaker down. We each picked up a shot glass.

“Lick it, slam it, suck it,” he said with a mischievous grin. 

I nodded and held up my shot glass.

He raised his glass and touched it with mine. We licked, slammed and sucked, tossing the bitten limes into the empty shot glasses. 

“Whoo!” he said, shaking his head.

“Damn!” I said, laughing.

“Again?” he asked. I nodded.

“Another round,” he told the bartender.

The burn of the tequila was stoking a fire burning low in my belly.

When the second round was ready, I watched as Eliot took a lime wedge and touched it to my lips. I opened them slightly as he slid the bitter rind between my teeth. Taking care not to bite down, I saw him pick up the salt shaker. With a soft chuckle, he leaned forward, licked my clavicle and sprinkled the salt. I shook my head, but I was amused and aroused.

Picking up the shot glass, Eliot cocked his head and studied me. I thrust my breasts forward and he grinned. I had the cleavage but the bra I was wearing didn’t push them together enough to hold the shot glass; Eliot was quick to improvise.

“Hold it,” he directed.

I held the shot glass in place between my breasts as Eliot cupped and pushed them together. Tentatively I let go and was (mostly) surprised to find the shot glass stayed in place. The look of delight on Eliot’s face was infectious, and I held my breath as I waited.

I felt the warmth and wetness of Eliot’s tongue as he licked the salt from my clavicle, and then lean down to fit his mouth over the shot glass. Quickly he threw his head back, downing the shot as he released one breast. He set the empty glass on the bar and then closed his mouth over mine. I was vaguely aware of the lime slipping from between my teeth before Eliot’s tongue swept in and I tasted the tequila, salt and him. It was heady, and it took everything I had to pull away.

The crowd ceased to exist as I picked up the salt shaker and paused to consider. _Neck? Pec? Ahh!_

Taking his left hand, I folded all his fingers down except the index and slid it between my lips. I heard his breath catch above the music and watched as his eyes widened. Refraining from sucking (too much) on his finger, I released it almost regretfully when it was wet enough and sprinkled salt on it.

Grabbing the lime wedge, I held it up to his lips and he bit down on it, holding it in place.

I picked up the shot glass, gave him a hot look and pulled his belt buckle away from his stomach. Realizing what I was going to do, Eliot sucked in, creating slack, and I slid the shot glass between the buckle and his shirt. 

I took his hand and slid his salt coated finger between my lips, sucking gently. Then, bending over, I looked up at him and winked. Holding him by the hips, I fit my mouth over the rim of the glass and leaned back to take the shot. I set the empty glass on the bar and leaned in to quickly bite the lime before spitting it into my hand. Eliot pulled me to him and our mouths met in a crush of need. 

His tongue thrust in and danced against mine. I felt his arms engulf me, his warm, hard body against me, and I momentarily forgot we were in the middle of a crowd. After kissing me quite thoroughly, Eliot pulled away, and I was left dazed, but very turned on.

Reading his thoughts, I knew I wasn’t alone.

“You wanna—” he started.

“We should—” I said at the same time.

We both laughed.

“Let’s go,” he said, and held out his hand. I took it and followed him out.

***

Driving away from the dance, I waited until the lights of town faded, then slid closer and put my hand on his thigh. He pretended not to notice, but the corner of his mouth twitched and I felt the muscles bunch as he pressed on the accelerator.

At the first touch of my hand on his belt buckle, Eliot’s hand dropped on mine.

“What’re ya doin’?” 

“If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right,” I said saucily, shaking off his hand, unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. 

“Lyn...”

“Just keep us on the road,” I told him, before freeing his cock and stroking him to full hardness with a firm grip. 

“Uh... damn!”

I smiled and licked my lips before lowering my head and engulfing his cock. The taste of pre-come exploded in my mouth as I circled my tongue around the head. He was hot and hard and silky as I stroked and licked. I knew I was teasing him but that was part of the fun. Unhurried, I alternated between sucking and stroking, keeping him on edge. 

I felt his thoughts shift and then he tapped my shoulder. I sat up quickly, realizing we were about to turn into Miss Ida’s driveway; I didn’t want to scandalize the poor woman with our antics if she happened to look out.

Feeling his eyes on me as he slowly drove to our cottage, I couldn’t help but continue to tease him. I slid my hand under my skirt and stroked myself over the yoga shorts. He growled softly and put his hand over mine, stilling it.

I read him clearly, feeling his playfulness and excitement as if it were my own, and couldn’t wait to see how the rest of this night would play out.

Stopping the car sharply in front of our cottage, he turned it off, leaving the keys swinging in the ignition. He tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants and carefully zipped them up; his belt buckle dangled with promise. 

“Ya wanna play?” he asked, his voice gruff, his eyes sparkling in the full moonlight.

I nodded but remained silent.

Exiting the vehicle, he strode around the car with purpose and pulled open my door. He took me by the wrist and pulled me out of the car. Still holding my wrist, he pushed me against the car, trapping me. Seven different ways to escape ran though my head, but I resisted the impulse to act on them.

“Know what happens to naughty girls who mess with somebody drivin’ a car?” His nearness made me a bit weak in the knees.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so instead, I shook my head.

“They gotta pay,” he warned. “You can say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ but I won’t unless you say...”

“Tequila,” I said softly.

“Tequila.” He smiled wolfishly.

While keeping hold of me, I watched him pull his belt free. He turned me around then, winding the belt around my wrists and pushing me face down on the hood of the car. He lifted my skirt and smacked my ass. I gasped in surprise, and he did it again, harder.

I felt his fingers slip into the waistband of the yoga shorts and he slowly slid them down until I could step out of them. He trailed his nails up my legs, sending shivers down my spine. 

Pressing my face against the hood of the car, which was still warm, I waited. Eliot slapped my ass again and again, alternating cheeks, his blows sharp and stinging but not painful.

Suddenly he gripped my waist and pulled me back. His hardness pressed into me and I moaned in response. He pulled me up against him, cupping my breasts, squeezing them. Pulling away, he grabbed the hem of my crop top and pulled it over my head and down my arms until it bunched around my bound wrists; he tucked it into the belt around my wrists, further binding me. 

Cupping and squeezing my breasts, his fingers slipped into my bra and he squeezed my nipples sharply. I gasped and pushed back against him.

Pushing me back down, Eliot nudged my legs further apart and I felt his fingers slide between my legs. 

“Already wet,” he said as his fingers slipped inside, rubbing too gently for my taste. His fingers were gone before I could fully enjoy them.

I heard his zipper and quickly felt him pushing into me, fucking me roughly. Each hard thrust felt good, but I needed more.

“Touch me,” I panted.

He slowed his thrusts and asked, “Wanna come?”

“Yes, please.”

“But you were naughty,” he reminded, continuing to drive into me.

I tried to move, to change the angle of his thrusts, but he held me where he wanted me and smacked my ass again.

“Stop that,” he said, “You get to come when I say you can.”

The frustration built in me, but instead of being off-putting, it was highly arousing. I let myself drift into his thoughts and felt his excitement, doubling my arousal. I knew even the lightest caresses would set me off.

Unexpectedly, Eliot pulled out, pulled me up and turned me around. He pushed me back on the hood and lifted my right leg up, his fingers sliding inside. Unerringly his fingers found my g-spot, pushing against it as his mouth closed around my clit, his tongue flicking it hard. I was coming apart, coming and moaning, lost in my release. 

Then Eliot was back inside me, my ankles on his shoulders, fucking me hard. His hand rested on my mons, his thumb pushing against my clit in a determined, delightful way with every thrust and I came again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed with each thrust, and I knew he was coming too.

He slid from inside me and lowered my legs gently. Sagging against me, he leaned down and kissed my stomach, breathing hard against my skin.

Coming around, I watched him pull his jeans up and zip them. Pulling me up, he unwound the shirt from the belt and pulled it over my head. I felt some concern from him as he loosened the belt from my wrists, and he took a moment to rub them before releasing me.

Inside the cottage, I stripped and dropped into bed, but I heard Eliot start the shower. I tried to wait for him to finish but instead, fell asleep.

***

The next morning, I woke up early, the sun peeking in the lace curtained windows. I felt Eliot pressed up against me, an arm draped over my hip, still breathing deeply. I loathed to wake him, but my bladder insisted. When I slipped from the bed, Eliot groaned and rolled over. 

In the bathroom, I slipped into a pair of yoga capris and a sports top with a built-in bra. I left Eliot sleeping and went out for a run. I’d gauged it was half a mile from our cottage to Miss Ida’s house, so I set off to make a dozen laps. 

I ran leisurely, enjoying the fresh air and cool morning. It wasn’t often I got the chance to run outdoors in a place this peaceful. I let my mind drift, thinking of the night before. Had I only met Eliot three days ago? From the way he seemed to know my likes and moods, it felt like we’d known each other for much longer.

On my ninth lap, I saw Miss Ida step out onto her back porch and wave. I returned the wave and she gestured for me to come up. 

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “Come in, coffee’s ready. 

“Morning. Thanks.”

“Didn’t expect y’all to be up so early after the dance last night,” she said conversationally as she poured me a cup of coffee. “Have a good time?”

“Yes, we did. Although Eliot is still sleeping.”

She smiled as she set the cup down. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Sugar, please.”

Stirring sugar into my cup, I watched as Miss Ida sifted flour onto the counter. 

“Biscuits?” I asked.

“Made the way my mama taught me.”

I took my cup and stepped closer to watch. It had been years, decades even, since I’d made biscuits from scratch. It brought back memories of a wood stove and a dark-haired man with green-gray eyes: Thomas. He’d been my husband for over half a century, and the only man to which I’d ever revealed my immortality. 

Shaking off the old memories, I set my half-finished cup of coffee in the sink.

“I better go wake up Eliot,” I told her. “He’s not gonna want to miss breakfast.”

“Take some aspirin for him,” Miss Ida suggested, gesturing to a bottle near the sink. 

“Thanks, I will.”

I didn’t know Eliot well enough to know if he’d take the pills, but I took them anyway.

“Should be ready in about 45 minutes,” she said, up to her elbows in dough.

Thanking her again, I headed back to the cottage. Eliot was awake when I got back, sitting on the back porch in his jeans, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” I said, sitting beside him. I held out the two aspirin. “Miss Ida thought you might need these. She said breakfast is in about 40 minutes.”

Setting his cup on the side table, Eliot took my hand, ignoring the aspirin, and studied my wrist. 

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes downcast. 

“Yeah,” I said confidently. “You?”

He shrugged and said, “Thought maybe...” His words trailed off.

“Hey,” I said, and his eyes finally met mine. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He smiled, still rubbing my wrist. 

“Okay, tough girl,” he said with a smirk. “You remember your safe word?”

“Tequila,” I answered, already anticipating the idea growing in his head.

We were 10 minutes late for breakfast.

***

At Miss Ida’s dining room table, I was astonished when she set the plates before us. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, ham steaks, red-eye gravy, and homemade biscuits. She also had fresh squeezed orange juice, coffee, whipped butter and strawberry jam.

“Your award-winning strawberry jam?” Eliot teased.

“From your mouth...” she said, pointing up. “What else do y’all need?”

I looked around the table and could not imagine needing anything more.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for us,” I told her.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, waving my comment off. “Enjoy doing it. I don’t get the chance to cook big meals all that often.”

“I’m surprised. I would think you’d get a lot of business. I was shocked you had a vacancy.”

“Oh... well...” 

I felt her thoughts turn sad and disappointed and... angry? but her expression didn’t change. Instead, she joined us at the table with a cup of coffee.

“So, how’d you two meet?”

Eliot cautioned a look in my direction and reached for the jam.

“Actually,” I started, “we met at a bar.”

She settled back to listen as I spun a tall tale.

***

Back at the cottage, Eliot commented, “You’re a pretty good liar.”

“What exactly did I lie about?” I asked rhetorically. “We met at a bar. We haven’t known each other long. I manage a hedge fund. You cook.” I shrugged.

He shook his head and I felt the arguments in his head.

“We ain’t married.”

“Okay,” I conceded. “I obfuscated.”

He smirked. “Same thing.”

“No, she just didn’t ask the _right_ questions,” I clarified. 

“‘kay, what’re the right questions?” he asked, dropping into a chair.

I followed suit, taking a seat on the couch, trying to find the right words to explain and yet not reveal too much.

“You do cook.”

“Among other things,” he shrugged.

“Do you want to explain to someone you just met what you really do?”

“I told you.”

He had. He had revealed himself to someone he just met, even if it had been a sugar-coated version of the truth. I didn’t linger on it, even though I wanted to.

“I manage a hedge fund.”

“And?”

“It’s my company,” I revealed.

He kept his face impassive, processing the information.

“Knew there had to be more,” he said, gesturing. “Who buys a car ‘cause rentin’ is too complicated?”

“I like to do things the easy way,” I said by way of an explanation.

“You didn’t last night,” he pointed out.

“True,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m... multifaceted.”

He laughed softly, his mind alight with ideas, but he said nothing. Instead, he just studied me with his intense blue eyes.

Feeling a bit exposed under his gaze, I said, “We should get going if we want to see the judging.”

We’d told Miss Ida that we’d be there to cheer her on.

Nodding, he stood up and held out his hand. “Maybe later we can investigate some of your other facets.”

***

Entering the fair grounds, we bypassed the carnival midway and headed towards the judging area. The pie judging was finishing up; Miss Ida’s category would be next.

Spotting her with a group of women, we edged closer. When she saw us, she smiled but kept her attention focused on the set up. Each entry contained three dollops of strawberry jam per plate, each plate numbered; there was no way to know which was plate hers. 

A dumpy man stepped in beside her and I watched her face subtly change. He leaned close to her and whispered something. I opened my mind and let their thoughts creep in.

_...bastard..._

_...get what I want... she’ll never win this..._

I thought perhaps he was a competitor and it was a not-so-friendly rivalry, but he didn’t seem to be the ‘jam making’ type.

Still contemplating them, I felt Eliot nudged me; they were about to announce the winner. 

“The winner is number 4, Miss Ida Donovan!” the head judge announced.

Eliot and I clapped enthusiastically as we watched Miss Ida raise her fists to heaven. She accepted her blue ribbon and an envelope containing prize money. The man who’d spoken to her previously stepped forward to congratulate her, but I could tell it wasn’t sincere and my Irish temper sparked. Before I consciously realized what I was doing, I followed the man a few feet beyond the congratulatory circle.

“That’s wonderful for her,” I commented in his direction.

Glaring at me briefly, he said, “Yeah, I guess.” _Still won’t be enough,_ he thought.

He turned and waddled off, but I vowed to get to the bottom of the situation. 

Joining Eliot, we congratulated Miss Ida.

“Thanks for coming, kids,” she said squeezing my hand.

“Happy for ya,” Eliot said, smiling broadly.

“Want to go celebrate with a ride on the ferris wheel?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she shook her head, “not me! But you kids go. I think I’m just gonna go home and have glass of wine!”

“It’s only 11 o’clock!” I said with a laugh.

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!” She chuckled.

“Okay,” I told her. “Enjoy yourself.”

We made to leave, but she dropped a wizened hand on Eliot’s arm, and we turned back.

“How about y’all kids come to the house for dinner? I do feel like celebrating!” she said conspiratorially. 

Eliot looked at me and I nodded.

“We’d love to.”

***

“So, what’d’ya wanna do?” Eliot asked as we surveyed the carnival grounds.

There were various food stands and games of skill and strength along the main path, with rides scattered around the periphery. While we had joked about riding the ferris wheel, I didn’t think Eliot was really interested.

“Tilt-a-Whirl?” I suggested.

He glanced at the ride I’d suggested and raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re on.” 

***

Waiting our turn for the ride, I watched the throng of people. While the judging area hadn’t been very crowded, the carnival midway was. Between the hot sun overhead and the crowd, the afternoon was quickly warming up. 

I pushed my hair back behind my ears as we stood in line with ride tickets in hand.

“Here,” Eliot said.

Looking, I saw he was holding a black hair band. My hair band that I’d ‘loaned’ him back in LA the first time we’d worked out together. I took it with a smile.

“Let me.”

Turning my back to him, I felt him gather my hair. I thought he was going to put it in a simple ponytail, but instead, I felt him section and braid it. He took the hair band from me and secured the braid.

“Thanks,” I said. 

It was finally our turn for the ride. We took our seat and waited expectantly. The ride started, we spun this way and that, spinning fast one second one way and then suddenly spinning faster the opposite way. Our laughter joined others around us and I enjoyed watching his face and feeling his joy.

Disembarking the ride, we held on to each other, still laughing.

“Had enough?” he asked.

“Never!”

Taking me at my word, we rode the Zipper and the SlingShot, and then went back and rode the Tilt-a-Whirl again. After that, I halted our adventure for refreshments.

“Two waters, a corndog and a funnel cake,” he ordered.

“What’s all this?” I asked as the vendor handed us the waters.

“It’s not a carnival unless you get a corndog and a funnel cake,” he said, smirking.

“Really?” I laughed and took the corndog. 

“Wait, mustard!” Eliot held out the mustard bottle and squeezed a line down the length of the corndog.

“You’re nuts,” I said, and took a bite.

He waggled his eyebrows and broke off a piece of funnel cake. Shoving the bite in his mouth, he left behind traces of powdered sugar on his lips.

I wiped the powdered sugar from his lips and licked it from my fingers.

“Wanna bite?” he asked as I watched his tongue dart out and lick his lips.

“Please.”

He broke off a piece of the funnel cake and held it up. Leaning in, I opened my mouth and waited. Sliding the sweet morsel between my lips, his thumb lingered, rubbing against my bottom lip.

“Taste good?”

“Uh huh,” I said, inclining my head, “but you taste better.”

“Hold that thought, woman. I need sustenance.” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling the corndog to his mouth and taking a bite. 

After our snack, we wandered through the midway looking at the games of chance and skill. I noticed a wistful half-smile on his face and chose to leave his thoughts to himself.

We drifted over to a game where the gamer tosses softballs into a bushel basket. 

“Step right up, sir, and win a prize for the lady,” the barker hustled.

I shrugged and cocked my head at Eliot.

“Why not?” he said playfully.

The barker explained the game and handed him two balls. Eliot tossed the first ball overhanded, it hit the back of the basket and bounced out.

“So close,” the barker taunted. 

Eliot’s second toss was also overhanded, this time it hit the top rim of the basket and bounced off.

“Aww, too bad. Wanna try again? Might have better luck this time,” the barker goaded.

Paying for a second turn, Eliot looked at me and winked.

This time he tossed the ball underhanded. It hit the bottom rim and rolled in. While looking at the barker, Eliot tossed the second ball in with little effort.

“Uh... uhh...” the barker stuttered.

“One of these?” Eliot asked, gesturing to the row of stuffed animals. “Which one do you want, sweetie?” He looked at me.

“You pick.”

He studied the collection before deciding on a giraffe. The barker handed it to him and Eliot turned to me with a childlike grin and held it out.

I could feel the satisfaction in his whole being.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the stuffed animal.

Leaning in, Eliot whispered, “The trick is not to hit the back of the basket.”

“Ahh.”

As we turned to walk away, a little boy, no more than five, ran in front of us.

“Mommy, mommy! This one!”

Watching, the mom stepped behind her son and paid for his turn. The first ball missed the basket; the second hit the basket but bounced away.

“Aww, too bad, little man,” the barker said. “Let him try again mom.”

“Please?” the little boy looked up at his mom.

I could sense her hesitation. There was no reason, other than the pleasure on the little boy’s face, to let him try again; we all knew the game was rigged and she would just be throwing money away. 

Before I could say anything, Eliot stepped forward.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, squatting in front of the boy.

The mom turned, looking at Eliot and me.

“How ‘bout I win one for ya?” Eliot suggested.

The little boy looked unsurely between Eliot and his mom, but slowly nodded his head.

“You don’t have to,” the mom said quickly. 

“I know,” he said with a grin.

Paying for another turn, Eliot easily lobbed the two balls into the basket. The barker looked unhappy.

“What do you want?” Eliot asked the little boy.

“El’phant.” He pointed.

“Good choice,” Eliot complimented, taking the elephant.

Turning back to the little boy, Eliot knelt in front of him and held out his hand.

“My name’s Eliot, what’s yours?”

“Lane,” he said, placing his small hand in Eliot’s. 

“Here ya go, Lane,” Eliot said, handing him the stuffed animal.

“Thanks, Mister El’lit!” 

“You’re welcome, Lane,” Eliot said with a broad smile. He glanced at me and I felt a question in his look. Suspecting what it was, I nodded.

“Hey Lane, I have a problem,” Eliot said seriously. “Maybe you can help me.”

The little boy’s blue eyes fastened on Eliot’s, but he didn’t say a word.

Eliot turned to me and took the giraffe. 

“I just got this guy, but I can’t take him home,” Eliot explained.

“Why not?” Lane asked. 

“Well,” Eliot said, leaning closer,” these two guys are buddies, and they want to stay together.” Eliot gestured to the elephant and giraffe.

Lane made an ‘Ohh’ face but said nothing.

“Think you can take care of both of ‘em?”

Lane nodded vigorously, his hair flopping up and down. Eliot handed the giraffe to Lane, who hugged it tightly. 

“What do you say, Lane?” his mom prompted.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, pal.”

Eliot stepped back and watched them walk away, the large stuffed animals clenched under each arm. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off Eliot’s face; the joy radiated from him like a beacon shining brightly. His feelings crashed over me like a wave and my breath caught in my throat. I knew I was seeing a side of him that he kept deeply hidden.

Turning, Eliot realized I’d been studying him and slowly he regained control of his feelings. I knew he was uncomfortable under my scrutiny so I refrained from saying anything.

We started walking again but none of the rides or games attracted us.

“STRIKING!”

Turning, we saw a large crowd had gathered around a roped off area, and we stepped closer to see what was happening.

“A coin mint using a drop hammer,” I said.

At Eliot’s confused look I explained further. 

“They use an iron or steel ‘hammer’ to press an image on a coin. They raise it a certain height and let gravity do the rest.”

My explanation elicited the attention of woman working there.

“It’s a 150-pound steel hammer, raised nine feet,” she said. “You’ve seen one before?”

“Yes, once,” I told her. _In 1824 in Italy._

“Here.” She handed us a paper brochure. “We make necklaces, key rings and coins. All double sided. Just pick two designs.”

I opened the brochure and we looked at the choices. With so many choices—Mythology, animals, saints, Celtic, Nordic, Viking, Greek, Chinese, Japanese, Egyptian, zodiac, talismans, it was hard to decide. I noticed Eliot gravitate to the zodiac symbols.

“Is that your sign?” I asked, pointing to the crab.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“Mine too,” I told him, shaking my head. “When’s your birthday?”

“Um, tomorrow actually,” he said sheepishly.

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Yours?”

“Last week,” I told him. “The 21st.” With no concrete idea of when I was born, only having been told it was summer, I’d chosen the summer solstice after completing my initial training with Methos.

“I think I’m gonna get the crab,” I said impetuously.

Eliot nodded and asked, “And what else?”

Studying the choices, I debated between the shamrock for my Irish beginnings and my initial. I’d managed to keep ‘L’ names throughout most of my immortality.

“What about you?” I asked him.

“Thinking the crab and,” he flipped the page, “the wolf.”

Thinking about the wolf tattoo on his calf, I remembered that in most native American lore, wolves represented loyalty to family and people they consider theirs. From everything I’d learned about him, I thought this could be true of him. 

“Sounds good,” I told him. “Gonna get a necklace?”

He fingered the necklace he was already wearing, and I sensed some hesitation. “Maybe.”

In the end, I had a silver medallion necklace pressed with the crab and an 14th century Rose alphabet ‘L’, and Eliot got the crab and the wolf pressed onto a silver key ring.

***

We left the carnival soon after, and once we were back at the cabin, I decided to take a little dip in the stream. I put on a red string bikini I hadn’t had the chance to wear. While we’d skinny dipped the day before, I thought it was a little disrespectful now that we were developing a friendship with Miss Ida.

Stepping onto the back porch, I heard a wolf whistle.

Turning, I saw Eliot reclined on the hammock, his eyes raking over me.

I laughed and did a quick spin.

“Sure you don’t wanna go for a swim?” I asked.

“Think I’ll just watch this time.” 

“Ya like to watch?” 

He wiggled his eyebrows, and said, “Sometimes.”

I smiled as I walked away, swaying my hips a little more than necessary.

The water felt wonderful on my skin, and I set off across the stream. I knew without looking that Eliot was watching, his interest less about my form and more about my safety. It was an unusual sensation for me, a mortal concerned about my wellbeing, and it made me feel things I hadn’t in a long time. I liked it.

Swimming back and forth across the stream leisurely, I relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the water and sun. I wasn’t sure how long I was out there when I saw Eliot heading down with a towel. I swam up to the edge and he leaned down, offering me a hand.

“Thanks,” I said, as I came out of the water.

“My pleasure,” he said as he slid the towel around my shoulders. I felt the tie around my back loosen.

His expression gave nothing away.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, holding the ends of the towel closed.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t burn,” he said innocently enough, but his body language said something else.

Stepping around him, I was close enough to rub my breasts against his arm. 

“I’m gonna go change.”

I felt his hand on my hip and then the strings on one side of my bikini bottom slackened.

I laughed, walking backwards towards the cottage.

“Just tryin’ to help,” he said with a smirk.

“Uh huh.”

Reaching under the towel, I untied the other side of the bikini and let it drop, stepping out of it.

“Mind bringing that?” I asked as I turned and walked faster.

I felt a playfulness wash through me that was both mine and his as he gave chase. He caught me just inside the bedroom, pulling the towel off with one hand and holding me against him with the other. I felt him nuzzle my neck and then the string around my neck was loose. He grabbed the bikini top and tossed it towards the bathroom.

Pushing back against him, I felt his hardness, but he was still dressed.

“Naked,” I told him.

While he stripped, I knelt on the bed and watched. 

He wasn’t trying to be seductive, but I was completely mesmerized—the flatness of his stomach, the firm pecs, the thick biceps, the play of muscles across his shoulders, the hollow at his hips, the muscle definition in his thighs. 

Seeing me studying him, he hesitated, but I crooked my finger and he came, kneeling on the bed in front of me. He cupped my face and kissed me gently, raining along my jaw and down my neck. Holding me against him, he lowered us to the bed and continued lavishing attention on my neck, his hands slowly trailing up and down my back.

While I was enjoying the attention, I had something in mind. I pushed against him, and he rolled unto his back, taking me with him. 

Hovering above him, I waited until his eyes focused on mine.

“Do something for me?” I asked.

“Hmm?” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Touch yourself for me.”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“I wanna watch your jerk yourself off,” I clarified.

His body tensed, and I felt his hesitation, so I added a little incentive. “I’ll do it, if you do it.”

I’d always been a bit of a voyeur, especially watching someone bring themselves pleasure. The idea of watching Eliot get himself off was very stimulating.

He wasn’t totally convinced, so I leaned in and kissed him softly. I trailed gentle kisses along his jaw, then nipped his earlobe. He hissed in pleasure and grabbed for me. 

With a ‘tsk-tsk’, I slipped down his body, gliding my hands down his chest and legs before settling on the end of the bed to wait and watch.

With a soft chuckle, he scooted back, propping himself up against the headboard and took his half-hard cock in his right hand. He kept his eyes on mine as he slowly stroked himself.

“Porn star style or hard and fast?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Hard and fast, please.”

Eliot tightened his grip on his cock and increased the speed of his strokes. His breathing quickened, and his eyes drifted shut as he got closer to completion. His hips rocked in sync, minute movements but I noticed. 

I clenched my legs together as his thoughts washed over me. After watching and feeling him, I wouldn’t need much direct stimulation when it was my turn.

As if sensing my feelings, I saw Eliot’s body tense and then he was coming, shooting across his stomach. His strokes slowed as he rode out his orgasm. When his breathing evened out, he opened his eyes and smiled.

“How’s that?” he winked.

“Hot,” I said as I reached for the discarded towel on the floor, so he could clean himself.

“Your turn,” he said, tossing the towel back on the floor.

I rolled onto my side towards him and bent my upper leg. Sliding my index and middle fingers between my legs, I circled my clit a couple of times before dipping them inside and pumping them. 

His thoughts thrummed through me as I rubbed my clit in hard, fast circles. I closed my eyes and pictured all the things he’d imagined—bending me over the hood of the car, pounding me hard, pulling my hair. 

Ahhh... I was coming, groaning loudly and rocking my hips. Drawing out my orgasm, I kept rubbing but I needed, wanted more. 

As if reading my mind, Eliot’s fingers were there, thrusting inside pressing just right and... I was coming again, panting his name.

“El, El, El...”

Drifting in a post-orgasmic haze, I felt him beside me, his hand rubbing lazy circles on my thigh. My mind relaxed, and his thoughts drifted into mine. 

“Curious?”

“Hmm?”

I opened my eyes and saw his shift from my sword case to mine.

“Curious about what’s inside?”

“Yeah,” he said with a rueful grin.

“Don’t like it?” I asked, already knowing his answer.

“Hate it!”

Laughing as I got up, I grabbed some workout clothes and went into the bathroom. I washed my hands and dressed quickly. Eliot was finishing redressing, pulling a tee-shirt over his head when I came out, and went in and washed his hands.

Setting the case on the bed, I waited until Eliot came out before opening it. I unzipped and opened it. Each weapon, except for the bokken was in its sheath, only the handles were visible.

Eliot gasped softly.

I pointed to each weapon.

“This is a Venetian stiletto. A Roman Gladius short sword. A Japanese katana. And a bokken.”

I could tell he was itching to pick them up. 

“Let’s go outside and I can let you handle them.”

He smiled like an eager child as I closed the case and we went behind the cottage.

I took the stiletto from its sheath and handed it to him handle first. 

“It’s very sharp,” I warned.

He took hold of it, turning it, getting a feel for it.

“It’s light.”

The long slim blade was perfect for close quarters fighting and stealth. 

He handed it back to me properly, and after replacing it, I removed the short sword from its sheath and held it out.

“Whoa!” he said with surprise. “It’s heavy!”

“It’s about 4 pounds.”

Backing up, Eliot swung the blade a few times.

“Usually it was paired with a shield of similar weight.”

He nodded, taking the information in, but he was like a kid with a new toy. After a few more swings, he handed it back to me. 

I took the katana from the case and turned to him, slowly unsheathing it.

His eyes widened in excitement.

“This sword was made in the early 1820’s,” I told him. “Notice the detailing on the handle and the sword maker’s mark on the blade.”

Leaning closer, Eliot looked but didn’t touch the blade, which pleased me. I swung the blade once and held it out to him with the same warning as before.

“It’s very sharp.”

He seemed to understand and carefully gripped the handle with both hands. Backing up several feet, he swung the sword.

“It’s so light compared...”

He didn’t need to finish, I knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s best to train with different weighted weapons.”

Swinging the katana several more times, I studied his form. I could tell he’d handled a sword before, but also that he hadn’t had any formal training.

“Put your hands closer together,” I directed.

He followed my instructions and his moves changed subtly. I took the bokken out and took position beside him, performing a simple kata. Watching, Eliot soon began to shadow my movements. We did several different katas and I grew to appreciate his skill. While he may not have had any formal training, he seemed to have a great affinity with a blade. 

After about an hour, with sweat dripping from us, I called a halt to our training. I wiped down the bokken before replacing it, then took the katana from him to wipe it.

He looked at the katana reverently. 

“Beautiful.”

***

After a shower and more fooling around, we were ready to go to Miss Ida’s for dinner. Since the evening was so mild, we decided to walk. Eliot held his hand out and I took it, our fingers entwined. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken my hand and I realized how much I enjoyed it. We walked in silence, enjoying the late afternoon and I kept my head out of Eliot’s thoughts, focusing on my own with effort.

At Miss Ida’s back door, I knocked.

“Come on in,” she called.

Eliot opened the door and held it as we walked in.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said, stirring a large steaming pot.

The air was heavy with the aroma of onion, garlic, pepper and spices.

“Smells good,” I told her.

“Thanks. There’s beer in the fridge,” she replied.

I grabbed two bottles of beer as Eliot walked over to see what she was cooking. 

“Makin’ shrimp etouffee?” Eliot asked her.

“You betcha!” she said, smiling up at him. “You ever have it?”

He put it hand on his heart, smiled and said, “My mama was born and raised Louisiana. We had gumbo, jambalaya or etouffee nearly every day!”

She smacked his shoulder and they laughed together like old friends.

“It’s about time for the shrimp.” She gestured to the pile of cleaned and deveined shrimp.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He turned to the sink and quickly washed his hands before scooping up the shrimp and dropping them into the boiling mixture.

“They’ll only take a couple minutes,” she told us. “Sit down.”

I sat at the kitchen table while Eliot washed his hands again. Miss Ida handed him two oven mitts and gestured to a covered dish on a back burner and he carried it over, setting it on a trivet. 

She took the oven mitts from Eliot and he sat across from me, picking up his beer and taking a long pull.

Once she deemed the shrimp done, she carried the large pot over and set it down in the middle of the table. She dished up fluffy white rice from the first dish and ladled etouffee over it. 

It smelled so good and I could hardly wait for it to cool enough to take my first bite, but when I did, it was incredible. It had been a long time since I’d had etouffee cooked by someone who truly knew what they were doing. 

We ate in companionable silence broken only by the sound of utensils on ceramic. 

“Damn!” Eliot said after his second helping. He rubbed his stomach appreciatively. “I wish I could eat more.”

Miss Ida laughed.

“What’s your secret?” I asked.

“No secret,” she said with a shrug. “Just gotta start with a good roux and the holy trinity.”

I knew what a roux was but wasn’t sure about the other.

“Holy trinity?”

Eliot answered for her. “Onion, garlic, bell pepper and celery.”

“Ahh.”

“The rest is just pepper and Cajun spices. And love.”

She smiled at us and I felt a pang of guilt for the lies we’d told her. 

Standing, Miss Ida reached for the etouffee pot, but Eliot stopped her. 

“You cooked, I’ll clean.”

We hustled her out onto the back porch and started cleaning the kitchen. After we put away the leftovers, Eliot started the wash water while I cleared the table. At some point I heard him start humming. I didn’t recognize the tune, but it sounded nice, so I kept listening without interrupting.

I grabbed a kitchen towel and started drying the dishes. He smiled at me but stopped humming.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“What song were you humming?”

“Oh, uh...” He seemed a little embarrassed. “It’s just a song I, uh,” he started, scratching his chin and leaving a glob of bubbles. “It’s a song I sang on a job.”

“You sang on a job?” I wiped the bubbles away. I couldn’t imagine a job where he had to retrieve something and sing.

As if reading my mind, he said, “It wasn’t a regular job.”

“Well, I guess not.” I chuckled.

He turned back to the dishes and I thought the subject was closed, but then I heard him singing softly. 

_“Well, I know they say all good things must come to some kind of ending, we were so damn good I guess we never stood a chance...”_

I stood stock-still, just listening. His voice was deep and melodic, soulful, and I was transfixed by the feelings he evoked in me, feelings that were both mine and his. Regret and loss. I was so lost in the feelings that it took me a bit to realize he had finished singing and was saying the last line again.

“That's just me thinking of you.”

Turning his head, Eliot locked his eyes with mine. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t trust my voice. 

Instead, I folded the kitchen towel I was still holding, set it on the counter and walked outside to join Miss Ida. 

She was quiet for a minute, then said, “Your man can sure sing.”

I smiled gently at her and said, “Yes he can.”

We stayed like that, sitting in silence and enjoying the night until Eliot came out, closing the screen door softly behind him. I stood up and we said our goodnights to Miss Ida. 

Eliot again took my hand as we walked back to our cabin but for some reason it felt very intimate this time. The feelings from earlier bubbled up and I found I couldn’t keep quiet.

“Every time I smell jasmine, I’m reminded of Thomas.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Even though I knew I’d lose him, I wouldn’t trade the time we had together.

“How did he…”

Since I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth—old age, I said, “His heart.”

He dipped his head sympathetically and squeezed my hand.

We didn’t talk anymore but by the time we got back to the cabin, a chill had crept over me, and I shivered. Eliot noticed.

“You cold?” he asked concernedly.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Sit down.” He gestured to the couch, then knelt in front of the small wood burning fireplace and built a fire with the supplies from the wood box. 

Opening the chest that served as a coffee table, he pulled out a throw blanket and draped it over my lap. He sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. 

“I’ve never been married but,” he started before clearing this throat, “I’ve been in love and I know...”

I put my hand on his knee and squeezed gently. We both understood love and loss and appreciating what you had when you had it. 

***

We were up early the next morning, and Eliot joined me in a run. We started off at an easy pace, warming up, but soon he was pushing me to run faster, harder. His thoughts were carefree and happy, all the emotional baggage from the night before had been safely tucked away.

Back at the cottage, we formed up and did a series of katas. He matched me step for step and I gained an even greater respect for his abilities and physicality. 

After quick showers, we were at Miss Ida’s for breakfast right on time.

“Morning, kids,” she greeted. “Hope you like waffles.”

We helped ourselves to coffee while she ladled batter onto an old-fashioned waffle iron. She set out sausage patties, sliced strawberries and warm syrup. 

When the waffles were ready, she served them to us and put more batter on the waffle iron for hers. Like the previous meals she’d prepared for us, I couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Mmm, they’re so light and fluffy!” I said.

She smiled knowingly at us.

“What’s in here that makes ‘em sweet?” Eliot asked.

Still smiling, she said, “It’s the agave syrup that makes ‘em special.”

We ate way too many waffles but they were too good to resist. When we were done, Eliot tried to do the dishes again, but Miss Ida was insistent, and he backed off.

“Would you kids like to go to church with me?” she asked while we stood by the back door. “It’s nothing fancy, just a little country church. Starts at 11.”

I could sense Eliot’s feelings right away, but he surprised me when he answered, “We’d love to.”

“Good, good,” she said. “Why don’t y’all come up here at twenty til. We can take my truck, cause I don’t think we can all go in your cute little car.”

We all laughed and agreed to the plan.

Back at the cabin, we dressed for church. Eliot wore his dark jeans and the dark grey shirt from the night we’d gone to his friend Beck’s restaurant. I chose to wear the white eyelet sundress I’d bought when we’d gotten to town. 

The church was exactly what she’d said, small; there were only fourteen people there, including us. The service was a simple affair and afterwards she took us to a local café. Even as full as we still were from the waffles, one smell of the fried chicken made our mouths water. 

When we were standing in line to pay the cheque, I noticed the same man from the jam tasting step into line behind Miss Ida. He was dressed much more formally than most of the other people and I wondered who he was. 

Miss Ida barely acknowledged his presence but he continued to try to talk to her. I pretended to be interested in something Eliot was saying but I was able to overhear part of their conversation.

“...make the payment or lose...” he threatened.

“...get you your damn money...” she countered.

Eliot had paid the bill by then and was escorting us out. I felt the rude man’s offensive thoughts as we walked away and swore to get to the bottom of the situation. In the short time that we’d gotten to know Miss Ida, I’d taken a liking to her, and felt the need to protect her.

Back at he house, we walked her to the door, but Eliot lagged behind.

“Have you got a hammer handy?” he asked, gesturing to the sign leaning against the fence. “Thought I’d fix it for you.”

She got him the hammer and some nails, and I took the opportunity to talk to her about what I’d overheard.

“Tea?” she asked as we sat down at her kitchen table.

I declined and asked, “What’s the deal with the man in the suit?”

“Who?” she asked, but I knew she was stalling.

“The man who was hounding you for money,” I said forthrightly.

“Eavesdropping isn’t polite,” she chided.

“No, it isn’t, but it’s too late now. Who is he?”

She sighed heavily and twisted her wedding band, trying to decide if she was going to tell me.

“I met my husband in 1958, right before he was sent to Vietnam. We were married a week later.”

She got up and grabbed a picture frame from the mantle and handed it to me. It was an old black and white photo of a handsome young man in a military uniform.

“He came home almost four years later, but he wasn’t the same,” she said sadly. “You see, he’d been injured, and we couldn’t have children.”

I nodded sympathetically.

“It was fine with me. I’d grown up in a house with ten kids, I liked the peace and quiet. But Drew—that was his name, Andrew, always wanted to leave something behind.

“We lived in Louisiana for a while working odd jobs, then he got a good job with a big company in Chicago and we lived there for twenty years. When he retired, we moved out here.

“He built this house and every one of those cottages himself.” She gestured vaguely. “He took pride in his work.”

“They’re all beautiful,” I told her.

“We used to do a decent business. Had regular customers every year, but all that changed when he passed.”

“When was that?” 

“Three years ago.”

“What happened?” 

“Heart attack. Gone before the ambulance could even get here,” she said sadly. “But he wasn’t alone. I got to say my goodbyes.”

“That’s good, that’s important,” I reassured her, remembering Thomas’ last day.

“Then that stupid bank man came around, telling me how much I owed on this place. Drew wasn’t even cold in the ground!” She slammed her fist on the table. “He’s been hounding me for three years, every month. Says he wants to ‘help’ me. What he wants is to get the land, tear down everything and build a bunch of cheap houses and make a fist full of money.

“Well, I won’t have it! Even if I need to sell everything else I own, he’s gonna have to pry the title to this land out of my cold, dead hands!”

She’d worked herself up and tears were threatening to spill. 

“It’s okay,” I told her. “It’ll be okay.”

“How can you say that, honey?” she asked, throwing up her hands. 

“Because I’m your fairy goddaughter.”

***

I knew Eliot had heard part of Miss Ida’s outpouring, but had wisely decided not to interrupt. When I stepped onto the front porch, he was sitting on the steps, so I sat down beside him.

“I wanna go smash that guy in the face!” he said through clenched teeth.

“Me too!”

“So, what are ya gonna do?” 

“Put a little fear into him,” I told him. “And if that doesn’t work, we can take turns punching him.”

Eliot laughed, grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I like the way you think!”

***

Driving back from Miss Ida’s, I felt a lot of irritation running through my blood, so I decided I’d work with my swords to release my frustration. If Eliot wanted to join, I would’ve been happy to train beside him. 

Back in the cabin, I pulled off my sundress and tossed it on the bed, then paused when I heard and _felt_ Eliot’s response.

“Damn!” _Oh fuck!_

His voice was low, nearly a growl, and my nipples tightened in response.

I turned slowly towards him. His eyes were dark and unreadable even though his thoughts and intensions filled the room.

I took an involuntary step back when he began stalking me. It was stalking because there was no other word for the predatory way he came towards me. 

When he got closer, he took hold of my wrists and bodily pushed me against the wall, pinning my arms above my head.

“Stay,” he growled against my neck.

I clenched my thighs together as his growl reverberated through my body. 

His hands skated down my body, resting on my hips as he kissed and licked a path down my shoulders. When his mouth closed on a nipple, I arched into him, and he sucked hard. He released it, then roughly flicked the tight bud with the tip of his tongue. 

“Please...” I begged, but somehow I knew he wasn’t in any hurry.

Treating my other nipple to the same treatment, I hissed in pleasure. He did this several more times, each time a little longer, a little harder. 

I dropped my hands to his head and he immediately stopped and grabbed my hands, pressing them back against the wall above my head.

“No!” he said against my neck.

His chest rubbed against my sensitive buds making me gasp. He kissed my parted lips, then ran his tongue along my bottom lip.

He slid his hands back down to my hips and then dropped to his knees. Kneading my ass cheeks, he breathed hotly against my lower belly and slipped his thumbs in the leg openings of my panties. 

I held my breath when he slipped his thumbs in the leg openings of my panties. He slowly rubbed back and forth while running his tongue along the waist band. Pulling me to him, he buried his nose in my crotch and inhaled. I felt my knees weaken and my hands dropped to his head. 

He growled against my sex and I trembled in need. Swiftly he stood and clutched me to him, walking us to the bed. He turned and laid me down before dropping back to his knees and pulling me towards the edge, leaving my ass on the edge.

Spreading my legs, he licked and kissed his way from one knee to the other. On his return trip, he lingered over my cloth covered sex and inhaled deeply. It inflamed my already heightened desire.

“So sweet...” he mumbled.

I felt the warmth of his breath between my legs, then I felt wetness as his tongue began tracing the seam of my opening. With each pass, he pressed his tongue harder, more insistently until it flicked against my clit.

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned.

Eliot chuckled against my opening, stimulating me further.

“Not for a while,” he said.

I lifted my head and looked down at him. He lifted his head and smiled up at me. I had the distinct impression I was at his mercy, and he was in no hurry to save me.

***

Eliot pulled on his jeans and a tee-shirt, then sat on the end of the bed and put on his socks and shoes. He looked over his shoulder at me, smiling. He seemed very carefree and relaxed, and I couldn’t help but smile back. He caressed my foot, then stood up to leave, but stopped and picked up something before leaving the bedroom. 

Still smiling, I rolled over and looked at the clock. We’d been in bed for almost three hours! I wasn’t sure what had sparked his libido, but it was sure pleasurable. He’d cranked up my arousal, mostly without ever directly stimulating me. Once he’d gotten my panties off, I’d lost count of orgasms he’d given me. 

As much as an immortal could be satiated, I was there. And yet, I knew if he were to walk back and get into bed with me, I’d be ready again. 

I looked up and saw him leaning against the door frame, watching me. I felt as if he’d been listening to my thoughts, and I waited expectantly. 

“Can’t sit still,” he said, running a hand through his mussed hair. “Thought I’d ask Miss Ida if she has some fishin’ gear.”

Even though I was a little disappointed, I thought it was funny how energized he was. 

“Have fun,” I told him. 

He wiggled his eyebrows and headed out.

I laughed out loud, threw back the sheet and went to take a shower.

***

Tucking the end of the towel in, I picked up my wide-tooth comb. After combing my wet hair, I twisted it into a tight bun and secured it with a band. 

Picking up my discarded sundress, I hung it up before grabbing the new denim shorts. I’d worn them to the carnival, but they were clean enough to relax in. I was going to grab the top I’d worn that day, but I spotted Eliot’s black beater on the floor and picked it up. 

I looked for my panties on the floor, but didn’t see them, so I threw the covers back and still didn’t find them. I remembered Eliot picking something up when he’d finished dressing but couldn’t think of a reason why he would take my panties. After all, they were just plain white cotton bikinis. But then I remembered his reaction. Every encounter we’d had was passionate, but there had been something more this afternoon.

Deciding to think about it later, I shrugged and slipped the beater and jean shorts on and went commando.

The cottage was quiet and after these last days with Eliot, I’d grown used to having him around. I remembered seeing a radio by the back door and turned it on. It was set to an oldies station currently playing “Silly Love Songs” by Wings. I turned the volume up, grabbed my phone and opened the back door.

Leaving the back door open so I could hear the music, I didn’t see Eliot so I sat on the hammock and unlocked my phone. I needed to send an email to Carrie detailing my plans for financing Miss Ida’s home, and one to my personal banker, Greg so he could have the necessary funds available.

As I was checking my email, Eliot came around the cottage holding two fishing poles and a tackle box.

“Wanna try?” he asked impishly.

“Maybe later,” I told him.

“Miss Ida said if we catch enough, we can have a fish fry.”

“Good luck, then.”

“Great music.”

I nodded in agreement as “Beast of Burden” by The Rolling Stones played. 

Before he turned to walk to the stream I noticed a peculiar lump in his left front pocket. I wondered if it was my panties, and if it was, why had he taken them?

Turning my attention back to my phone, I saw an email from Methos; he and Duncan were settling in to a rented Italian villa while they spent the summer guest lecturing at university. I finished writing my emails and checked my calendar. Other than my meeting Friday afternoon in New York, my calendar was clear. At some point, I’d have to decide when to go, but I was having too much fun on this interlude with Eliot.

Looking up, I saw him standing upstream from where we swam, slowly reeling his line in. 

These last four days had been great, better than great, they’d been fun, probably some of the most fun I’d had in more than fifty years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared so much about myself to someone so quickly. Obviously, we’d had chemistry, it had been there from the beginning, but there was more—I genuinely liked him and enjoyed being around him. 

I found myself daydreaming as I gazed at him and the lyrics of the song on the radio drifted in.

_But when you hold me in your arms_  
_You're like ten good men wrapped in one_  
_Baby, I like what you're doing to me_

Laughing at the irony of Carla Thomas’ song, I set my phone down and went to join Eliot fishing. 

I _did_ like what he was doing to me. 

***

Eliot set the cast iron Dutch oven on the grate over the firepit and came to sit beside me at the table on Miss Ida’s back porch. He’d cooked the meal—fried fish and packet potatoes with garlic, rosemary and other spices, himself while we had sat watching and drinking iced tea. Now with the skillet cobbler on the fire to cook, we could eat.

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” I asked, filling my plate.

“Boy scouts.” He smirked when he said it, so I wasn’t sure how serious he was. 

He passed me the tartar sauce he’d made, which had an unexpected kick.

“Jalapeno juice,” he whispered to me, then winked at Miss Ida.

We ate heartily, telling stories and laughing the whole time. When the cobbler was done, Eliot scooped out steaming spoonsful and Miss Ida topped them with vanilla ice cream. It was very nearly a perfect night.

When we were done, we carried the dishes in and Miss Ida set about doing them, waving off our attempts to help. I went back outside but Eliot lingered until I heard her yell.

“Get out of my kitchen, boy!”

I turned and saw him scamper out the back door. Miss Ida was smiling out the back window and shook her head at him.

“What’d you do?”

“Was tryin’ to help,” he shrugged. “She popped me with a kitchen towel!” 

He rubbed his behind and I laughed. 

We drew our chairs up to the firepit and sat in silence, enjoying the night. A little while later, Miss Ida came out.

“That was fast,” Eliot commented.

“Years of experience,” she told us as she handed me a glass jar.

“What’s this?” I asked as Eliot pulled her chair up and she sat across from us. 

“Moonshine,” she said with a guilty shrug.

“Moonsh— ” Eliot started but I interrupted. 

“Really?” 

I looked at the jar and saw a small label: Genuine Moonshine – Peach flavored.

“Full moon and moonshine,” she said happily.

“Why not?” I said, opening the jar. I took a sip. “Hmm, that’s pretty smooth.”

I passed the jar to her and she took a sip before passing it to Eliot.

“All we need is some music and it’d be perfect,” I said wistfully before taking the jar and another sip.

“Miss Ida, did I see a guitar in your living room?” Eliot asked.

“What?” she said, taking the jar. “Oh, yes. It was Drew’s. Do you play?”

He chuckled and said, “I dabble.”

She waved her hand at him and he went to grab it.

“That boy is too much,” she said after he left.

“He is,” I agreed. 

While he was inside, we talked about the money I was going to loan her. She was insistent that she would pay me back and didn’t want charity. I knew she was a proud, independent woman and I didn’t want to take any of that away from her. 

Cradling the guitar, he came back and sat on the edge of his chair. He strummed his fingers across the strings and tightened some of the tuning pegs. 

He kept strumming, and soon I thought I recognized the tune he was playing but I wasn’t sure. He kept at it, getting a feel for the guitar and tuning it as best he could.

Eventually, he said, “Let me see if I remember it.”

He started again, a different tune, but familiar, and then he sang the first line. 

_“Just the good ole boys, never meaning no harm...”_

Miss Ida clapped her hands and he kept singing. It wasn’t perfect, but we all enjoyed it. He spent more time just strumming the guitar but didn’t sing again. It was a very relaxing evening.

When Miss Ida yawned, Eliot was quick t0 wind up the night. I walked her in while he put out the fire. 

“Y’all aren’t married,” she said plainly.

I started to deny it, but she put a hand up. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. Know why you did it.”

“What gave us away?”

“You’ve got a good poker face, honey, but you can’t hide the surprise when he does something unexpected.”

I couldn’t argue with her assessment. And since nearly everything he did was unexpected, I’m sure I’d given myself away quite a bit.

Eliot brought the guitar in and placed it where he’d found it.

“How ‘bout you let me cook breakfast?” he asked.

She appeared to think it over, but I knew her mind was already made up.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Long as you have eggs, I can make breakfast,” he assured her.

“Deal!” 

We said goodnight and started our walk back to the cottage.

“This was a really nice weekend,” I said as we walked.

“It was,” he said softly. “Surprising.”

I agreed but didn’t say anything. He was in an unusual mood and his thoughts were shielded, so I just took his hand and we walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

I woke up slowly feeling tender kisses on my jaw and down my neck. Eliot’s hands slowly traveled down my ribcage, over my hip and down my thighs, and then back up. I heard raindrops on the tin roof and peeked open my eyes; it was still dark outside.

“The car!” I said suddenly.

Eliot held me in place when I tried to get up.

“Shh,” he comforted. “Already put the roof up.”

Relaxing again, I hummed in pleasure at the feel of his hands on me. I wondered what time it was but that stopped mattering when his hands cupped my breasts.

Unlike the day before, his caresses were tender, slowly willing my nipples to hardness. He licked them both, then blew softly, hardening them further. 

He lifted the sheet and slid over my body, I parted legs to make room for him and felt his hardness press against me. He returned his attention to my breasts, squeezing them as he rocked against me. 

Easing down my body, he left a trail of wetness from his tongue and he licked along my ribcage. He dipped his tongue in my belly button and I wiggled under him. 

He braced himself above me and his cock rubbed more intimately. I spread my legs wider and lifted my hips. Shifting his weight, he reached between us and stroked his fingers against my sex.

He grinned and I heard his thoughts loud and clear. _Mmm... wet..._

Slowly, he filled me, his thumb brushing against my clit with an unhurried pace. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me, our mouths met in a crush of need and desire. 

With a perfect rhythm—thrust, stroke, slide, he built up the pleasure with each motion. It was so good, so flawless that I found my orgasm coming quickly. As I arched and gasped, he kept his rhythm and I came again, almost immediately. Thrusting a few more times, he groaned and came, saying my name like a prayer against my neck. 

After a bit, he slid from my body and rolled over, taking me with him. My head rested on his chest and his arm was curled around me protectively. As our breathing settled down, I realized we had never cuddled after sex.

We’d spooned sometimes, before or after sex, but not usually for long. Of course we touched while we slept, mostly I thought as a reminder that we weren’t alone. But this... this was different.

This was a lover’s embrace, this was more intimate and personal.

It took me a moment to realize that I was okay with this. We’d been strangers four days ago, but now I felt like we’d moved into something else. What, I wasn’t sure. 

Trying to read his thoughts to see if he was feeling the same way, I found he was drifting in a haze tiredness, and most of his thoughts were fuzzy. Except... he wanted me to go to sleep. 

I tried to remember all the nights we’d spent together and realized I’d fallen asleep first every night. And just as quickly, I realized it was one of the ways he protected himself. 

Relaxing, I let myself fall asleep, so he could.

***

Hearing him up and showering, I looked at the clock. It was before seven, so I turned off my alarm and sat up. He’d laid out all his clothes on the bed, his empty duffle bag beside them.

I thought about the night before and wondered how he was feeling this morning. Before I could try and read his thoughts, I heard that shower shut off. He came back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and I nearly forgot what I was thinking.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Morning.”

He leaned over and kissed me, his messy wet hair tickled my forehead and left beads of water on my skin. 

“Always getting me wet,” I said, laughing as I wiped them away.

“What can I say?” he replied with a wink. “Got up early so I can make breakfast.”

I’d forgotten his offer the night before and buckled down my libido for the time being.

“Do I have time for a run?” 

He was studying his clothes but looked up and said, “Yeah, should be ready right at 8.”

I went in to shower and left him to dress, knowing I’d be tempted to distract him.

***

I did my katas and some sword work before I started my run; I was on lap ten when I saw Eliot wave from Miss Ida’s back porch. I slowed to a walk to cool down and by the time I sat down at the table, he was setting the skillet on the hot pad.

“Veggie frittata,” he announced. 

He poured me a cup of coffee and slid the sugar bowl towards me. The frittata was light and fluffy, with the perfect amount of spice and a colorful array of vegetables. I thoroughly enjoyed his cooking and hoped to experience more. 

We left Miss Ida doing dishes (he cooked, she cleaned—she recited his line back to him) and we went back to the cottage to change and pack. We agreed to meet at her house in an hour.

I jumped in the shower while Eliot tidied up the cottage. He stripped the sheets and made sure all the cups we’d used were in the sink. When I came out, he was packing his bag.

I’d decided to dress a little more formally; I had a black shirt and high heels but most of the shirts were too casual. Watching him pack, I had an idea.

“Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

He looked at the tee-shirt he was folding and held it out to me.

“Sure.” He grinned.

I laughed at him and shook my head. He pulled out the burgundy pearl snap shirt and handed it to me.

“This one?”

I nodded and took it and my other clothes to the bathroom to dress. Combing my wet hair, I was trying to decide what to do with it, when he knocked on the bathroom door. I opened it for him.

“Put your sword case and my bag in the car,” he told me. “Almost ready?” 

“Yeah,” I said but I knew I didn’t sound sure. 

He frowned, then asked, “Want me to braid it?”

Smiling at him, I handed him the comb. 

“Come sit on the bed.”

I did as he’d asked, turning my back to him. It was a totally different experience than the afternoon at the carnival. He combed it first, taking his time, and then he French braided it. When he was done, I checked my reflection in the mirror; it was straight, tight and very well done.

“Is this where you tell me your secret talent is hairstyling?”

He laughed but didn’t say anything.

I put the last of my bathroom stuff in my suitcase as he tossed the towels in the laundry basket with the sheets. 

“Oh, hey,” I said, waiting until he turned to me before continuing. “Have you seen my white panties? I couldn’t find them, thought you might have picked them up.”

His poker face was good, but I heard all the confirmation I needed.

“I, uh, think I did. Dropped ‘em, uh, in my bag.” 

I smiled to myself as he carried my suitcase out, thinking about him and those white panties.

Closing the cottage door, I felt a little melancholy walking away and vowed that I’d come back some day.

***

We stepped into the bank, Miss Ida and Eliot, sat down but I went to the counter and asked to see the manager. I stayed where I was until he came out of his office. When he walked towards me, I was secretly pleased that I’d had the foresight to bring the high heels because those 4 inches put me 3 inches taller than him.

“I’m Mr. Reynolds, the bank manager, how can I help you?” 

He smiled and held out his hand. 

I shook it briefly, then said, “We have some business to discuss.” 

Not waiting for him to invite me into his office, I stepped around him and walked in taking a seat.

He followed and sat across from me, asking, “What can I help you with?”

“My name is Lynae O’Neil. This,” I set a slip of paper in front of him, “is the number for my personal banker in Chicago. He’s expecting your call.”

He looked at the paper but didn’t pick it up. “What’s this all about?”

“This about me paying off Miss Ida Donovan’s mortgage.”

“Now see here, you can’t do that!” Red splotches appeared on his cheeks.

“I can, I will and I am. Unless you want to discuss it with him.” I turned and pointed at Eliot, who gave Reynolds a look that could freeze ice. 

“Uhm, um uh, there’s no need to threaten me!”

“Good. Then let’s get on with it.”

I watched as Reynolds called my banker and verified my information. He did all the paperwork, transferring enough money to cover the mortgage plus an additional sum Miss Ida could draw on to cover any needed repairs. When that was done, he called Miss Ida in and set up automatic deposits from her account to cover the monthly payment.

“A hundred dollars!” she exclaimed. “Why, I can pay more than that!” I was worried I’d offended her.

I quickly reassured her. “I know you can, but if you have a hard month, you _only_ have to pay the hundred. If you want to pay more, you can.” I looked at Reynolds. “And no one will ever bother you again about repaying the loan.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. 

She took her paperwork and stepped out. Reynolds got up and walked around the desk, but I stood up quickly, blocking him. 

“I meant it when I told her that no one would bother her again.” I poked his chest twice. “If I hear anything contrary to that, I will make it my life’s mission to destroy you.”

I stared at him until he lowered his eyes.

“Do you believe me?” I asked, deadly quiet.

“Yes, yes. I, I, uh, believe you.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I said sarcastically, then turned and left without another thought. 

We walked Miss Ida to her truck and Eliot helped her in even though she didn’t need it. 

“So, where are you kids going now?” she asked.

“Not sure,” I said, looking at Eliot. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He shrugged noncommittally. 

“What about Vegas?” she proposed. “Since you’re on your honeymoon.” She winked at me.

I looked at Eliot, he nodded and said, “Why not?”

“Looks like Vegas it is!” 

Miss Ida reached into her purse and pulled out a $20 bill. “Put it on red for me,” she said with a wink. “You better get going.”

We said our final goodbyes and watched her drive away.

“You wanna drive?” Eliot asked, offering me the keys.

“Nah, you’re doing a great job.”

We headed north and east out of town.

“Ever been to Vegas?” he asked as we drove.

I remembered a lunch I shared with Frank Sinatra at the Sands in the spring of 1958, and said, “Not in a long time.”

The end.

 _Three days and nights to put some life back in this man_  
_I ain't holding nothing back_  
_You got all I am_  
_Hearts and souls and dreams in the palm of your hand_  
~~ _Three Days_ , Pat Green

**Author's Note:**

> The song he sings near the end is the theme song from "Dukes of Hazzard" by Merle Haggard. I just had this mental image of him (Eliot and CK) watching it as a kid. :)
> 
> If you're interested in the amulets or key rings Lyn and Eliot got
> 
> https://www.etsy.com/shop/somewearbeyondllc
> 
> I got one years before I found CK... and it has a wolf on it!! <3


End file.
